


WiP Amnesty: Misc FPF

by MontanaHarper



Category: Dark Angel, Inception (2010)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Community: wip_amnesty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-13
Updated: 2010-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-18 19:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/192538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/MontanaHarper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for all of my one- or two-off unofficial WiP Amnesty stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ( the Dark Angel one... )

**Author's Note:**

> Everything I write falls under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/), including the WiP amnesty stuff, so if anyone wants to finish something, remix it, whatever, that's cool with me so long as the license conditions are met.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Porn Battle V (the fifth dimension)](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/344051.html). Prompt: distraction

Alec isn't sure exactly how he got press-ganged into this whole thing, but he suspects it had something to do with wide brown eyes and deceptively lush curves. What he _is_ sure about is that it's assumed he'll be the one to distract Normal, by whatever means necessary; Max is too good for the Mata Hari routine and Original Cindy...well, he's not even going to go there. Six months ago he would've done it without thinking twice, but Max and her friends are apparently rubbing off on him—he snickers at the unintentional double entendre—because he's suddenly thinking about things like ethics and repercussions.

Or at least he _was_ thinking about them until Max's hand planted in the small of his back sends him reeling forward, almost stumbling until he collides with the front counter.

Normal looks up from his clipboard and his expression goes from annoyed to pleased in one second flat. "Mister McDowell, what can I do for you?" Normal's not a bad guy, really. A little annoying sometimes, but then who—aside from Alec himself—isn't?

Alec smiles automatically and leans forward, pitches his voice soft and low. The move is calculated, and works exactly as he intends, drawing Normal closer and creating a sense of intimacy between them. "It's kind of a...delicate subject. Maybe we could talk in your office?"

"Of course, of course." The clipboard clatters down on the counter and Normal glances around the room sharply. "You two, what are you doing lollygagging around here? Those packages aren't going to deliver themselves. Get to it. Bip bip bip!" Apparently satisfied that he's instilled an appropriate degree of respect and fear, Normal leads the way into his office, closing the door behind them and then turning to face Alec expectantly.

Alec's never had trouble thinking on his feet before, cover stories and excuses spilling from his lips without even the need for thought, but in the face of Normal's solicitousness he suddenly finds the well dry. The silence stretches and Normal starts to frown, which is apparently the kick in the pants Alec needs to jolt him out of his inexplicable freak-out.

"This is kind of awkward," Alec says, and that's so true it's not even funny. He continues, the truth spinning out far more easily than even the easiest of his lies has in the past. "And I don't do it very often. I just—" He shakes his head, the words running out again, and the weight of Normal's expectant look crushing the breath from him.

Maybe if he tackles it from a different direction. "I like you, Normal. And I kind of got the impression that you like me," he says, watching the expressions flicker across Normal's face, analyzing and cataloging and filing them away automatically: confusion, uncertainty, guilt. Wistfulness. There's the vulnerability he was looking for. Alec takes a step forward, licks his lips and watches Normal's gaze fix on his mouth. "I'd like to—"

"Yes," Normal interrupts, closing the distance between them. "Yes."

[ ]

"[]" Normal blurts out. When Alec just nods, he continues, "[]" [about how Alec shouldn't expect preferential treatment]


	2. ( five times Eames hits on Arthur, and one time he doesn't )

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five times Eames hits on Arthur, and one time he doesn't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ### Warning: Though there is no actual rape, there are moments of serious threat in the first scenario that may be triggery for some people. Caveat lector.

**-= 5 =-**

The sound of the front door closing is his cue. Eames glances in the mirror, checking his lipstick one last time, adjusting the hem of his skirt just that little bit higher. Wide blue eyes stare back at him and he winks, blowing his reflection a cherry-red kiss. The blonde he's forging is a real bombshell, all long legs and luscious curves; he'd do her in a heartbeat.

Turning away from the mirror, he calls out, the words slow and lazy with a Texas drawl as they fall off his lips, "Hey, baby. How was your day?" The clock in his head begins to tick down.

...5...

The mark is ridiculously easy to manipulate, which is no more than they'd expected. Eames slips up behind the man, pressing against his back and sliding slender hands up to loosen the knot of his tie. "I bought a few things today," he whispers into Bennett's ear. "I hope you don't mind."

Bennett takes a step away and Eames lets go, fingers trailing lightly over his chest as though reluctant to release their hold. The punch is telegraphed, an angry lashing out that would be laughably easy to avoid.

Eames lets it connect.

Pain blooms bright and hot, and he stumbles and falls backward, half against the couch and half on the floor. The short skirt slips up even further over one hip, revealing the black lace trim of his panties. In the back of his mind the clock is still ticking down.

...4...

"Baby, please." Eames reaches out one hand, imploring. "We've got all that money. Why can't I spend just a little of it?"

He's not expecting Bennett to grab his wrist, to twist his arm behind his back and force him face-down on the plush white carpet, and he has to consciously override his first instinct to fight back. It's hard to remain passive, to ignore reflexes born of years of military training, but there's a reason Eames is considered the best forger in the business: he gets the job done, no matter what.

...3...

"Baby –" he tries again, but his words are cut off as his head is wrenched up, Bennett's fingers tangled in his hair and Bennett's breath, hot and foul, bathing the side of his face.

"Whore. Filthy, money-grubbing whore," Bennett growls, letting go of Eames's arm. The sound of a zipper is loud enough that Eames can hear it over Bennett's panting, and his skin crawls in revulsion as he realizes Bennett is turned on. _That's_ something that hadn't been in James Bennett's dossier; Eames had been expecting 'abusive, with serious control issues', but 'sexual sadist' was an unpleasant surprise.

...2...

Eames gets his hands under him but hesitates, heart pounding from the adrenaline spike. They're nearly there, nearly to the point of extraction, and one wrong move now could bring the whole dream crumbling down. When Bennett releases his grip on Eames's hair, Eames lets himself be pressed down into the carpet, Bennett's elbow sharp between his shoulder blades and Bennett's hand tight – suffocating – over his nose and mouth. The flimsy fabric of his panties tears, and Eames closes his eyes and counts down.

_...non, rien de rien..._

The pounding on the door is loud and fast. Bennett jerks his hand away and Eames sucks in a breath.

"Police! Open up!" There isn't even a breath of silence between the shout and the sound of the door slamming open, knob embedding itself in the plaster of the wall.

Eames pushes himself up to a sitting position just in time to see Bennett, scrambling toward a black leather briefcase, go down hard under the butt of Arthur's Glock. He allows himself a moment of vindictive satisfaction, and then he says to Arthur's back, "Took your sweet time rushing to my rescue." The drawl seems to get thicker of its own accord. "A knight in shining armor you are not, darling."

Arthur shrugs as he pulls a sleek silver laptop from the briefcase. "I did my research," he says. "I know you could take him apart without breaking a sweat."

And that's...well, flattering, actually. Though on balance, Eames would prefer a bit less trusting in his abilities and a bit more having his back. Across the room, Arthur has the laptop open on Bennett's desk and is typing furiously. Eames gets to his feet, a little more wobbly than he'd ever admit out loud, straightens his skirt and moves to look over Arthur's shoulder at the screen.

"Well?"

_...non, je ne regrette rien..._

Arthur glances over, gaze dropping for just an instant to the wealth of cleavage on display before he returns his attention to the laptop screen. "A handful of offshore bank account numbers, a safety deposit box in his mother's maiden name, and a trunk in the attic of his childhood home," he says, the faint pleased curve at the corners of his mouth hinting at dimples and leaving Eames with an unexpected desire to see more. "It's exactly what we were looking for."

Eames plucks two flutes of champagne from the air, bringing one around into Arthur's line of sight. "Sounds like a job well done," he says, leaning further into Arthur's personal space, and lowering his voice to a breathy whisper. "Shall we celebrate?"

"Sorry," Arthur says with a tiny shake of his head, but his tone isn't regretful in the least.

_...ni le bien qu'on m'a fait..._

There's a split-second of disorientation, of being caught between the dream and waking, a sensation so familiar now that Eames barely notices it, and then he's blinking up at the cracked and water-stained ceiling of the motel room. He slides the needle from his arm and indulges in a full-body stretch that dislodges the headphones; Edith Piaf's voice still drifts out from them, faint and tinny. He sits up and looks over to the other bed where Tadashi has already pulled Arthur's IV and is spooling the infusion line back into the case.

Arthur is sitting at the foot of the bed, rubbing the inside of his elbow. "Well?" he asks, not looking at Eames.

Eames thinks about it, about the nearly perfect dossier Arthur had put together, about the quick and decisive way he'd taken Bennett down. "Not bad," he finally allows. "I suppose you'll do." The disposable mobile is in his jacket pocket; he tosses it to Arthur, who catches it with barely a fumble, despite the fact that he still hasn't looked in Eames's direction. The lad has excellent peripheral vision, as well, apparently. "We'll be in touch."

(( I like that Eames is professional enough to let himself be hit and held down like that (even if Bennett makes my skin crawl too), concerned enough about the job to work through pain. I would expect fandom to be like "Military training?" - though we talked about that and it's probably true. I can has moar plzkthnx?

Hell of a job interview. ;) I'm trying to find a spot where the phrasing might need tweaking...and I can't. So far, so good. --S))

**-= 4 =-**

The next dream job Eames ends up working isn't for nearly a year, and it's for – of all things – the US government. The call comes from Arthur, who says simply, "I've got a job for you if you're interested, Mr Eames."

He's not surprised that Arthur was able to track him down, but he is surprised to find that, in the best spy-thriller tradition,

the Bennett job wasn't just Arthur auditioning to work with Eames and Nash and Tadashi, but was apparently

 

[Eames-as-corporate-lawyer, getting info from mark who is head of R&D at the pharmaceutical corp]  
easy - 1 dream layer; club for the pick-up, taxi?]

 

**-= 3 =-**

 

[They'd been working together on and off for a few years and Eames had never seen Arthur show any interest in *anyone*; he even ponders the idea that Arthur is a robot. Then he sees Arthur trick a kiss out of Ariadne on the Fischer job.]

 

[girl-next-door (a la Ariadne, after Eames sees Arthur kiss Ariadne in the shared dreamspace); job - rescue Cobb  
hard - special circumstances;  
architect  
dreamer  
point  
extractor  
chemist  
]

 

**-= 2 =-**

[Eames has developed a hypothesis by now. Well, two hypotheses, actually, but the first is the easiest to test: Arthur is gay.]

[bishy boy; job - will contesting, a la Anna Nicole Smith  
easy - 1 dream layer;  
architect  
dreamer  
point  
extractor  
chemist  
]

 

**-= 1 =-**

[uber-masculine guy; job - corporate work, finding out whether or not rumors of a secret impending merger are true  
harder - 2 dream layers b/c the mark has been trained; turns out to be easier than they expect once they get in there because the guy Eames is forging is someone the mark is in unrequited love with;  
architect  
dreamer  
point  
extractor  
chemist

Montana: They find out more than just what they're supposed to; they find out that the guy has another secret: his attraction to a friend.  
Socks: Oh, oops! doing their jobs too well ;)  
Montana: *nodnod*  
Montana: And Arthur is looking in just the right direction at the right time to see something in Eames's expression...sympathy, empathy, *understanding*...and the light comes on.]

**-= 0 =-**

  


[Eames]

["Hello?"

It's only been a week since the Bennett job and it's obvious even over the phone that Arthur hadn't expected to hear from Eames again so soon. Well, the lad might as well learn up front that the business was unpredictable, in every way imaginable.

"How is your dexterity, Arthur?" Eames asks without preamble. "Are you good with your hands?"

There's a moment of absolute silence down the line, and then Arthur says, "Aren't you supposed to ask what I'm wearing first?" which surprises a bark of laughter from Eames.

"You're quite correct. What are you wearing, darling?"

"Good morning to you, too, Mr Eames. I take it you have a possible job for me?"

[Eames has to teach Arthur to pickpocket. Eames and Tadashi get the mark in the right frame of mind, and then Arthur has to snag is little black book full of into.]]


End file.
